


Dead Tomes

by icarus_chained



Category: Cthulhu Mythos - H. P. Lovecraft, Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Gen, Insanity, Necronomicon, Partnership, Quest, Translation problems
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-13
Updated: 2012-04-13
Packaged: 2017-11-03 13:27:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/381821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icarus_chained/pseuds/icarus_chained
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Aziraphale hunts the <i>Necronomicon</i> across the centuries. Crowley, reluctantly, helps.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dead Tomes

"... Angel?" the demon asked, very carefully. 

Aziraphale blinked absently, looking up from his stock-taking. "Yes, dear? What ... Crowley! Put that down!"

He stood rapidly, moving to the demon's side and almost slapping the heavy book out of his hands. Crowley let it go handily, in favour of narrowing golden eyes in his direction.

"I thought you'd stopped hunting for that thing," the demon accused, softly, raising one elegantly questioning eyebrow. "Angel, you _promised_ me, after all that fuss in San Francisco in '06."

"That was different," Aziraphale snapped back, dropping the heavy weight of one of the few remaining greek translations of the _Necronomicon_ back onto the table. The tome thudded ominously. "That was the original Arabic copy, _al Azif_ itself. These things are dangerous enough with translations mucking them up and fouling the magics. If someone got the original, untainted ..."

" _Yes_ , I know," Crowley grumped. "That's why I bloody stuck around with you, in an _earthquake zone_ , not to mention the bloody fire, to make sure it was taken care of!" He growled, slapping a hand off the table next to the book. "But this doesn't look like _al Azif_ , does it?" Aziraphale winced guiltily, and Crowley sighed. "Angel ..."

"It's just ... I've been keeping an eye on it since he wrote it," he explained, softly. "I just want to make sure ... well, to keep people from going the way he did."

"Poor sorry bastard," Crowley agreed, gently, but still unimpressed. "Still. _Aziraphale_."

"I tried to steer him, you know," Aziraphale went on, eyes distant. "Men aren't supposed to _look_ , to see. I tried to at least steer him towards the gentler aspects. But by the time I reached him ... The face of an angel was nothing to fear, by then. And the others ... the poor silly children. I did _try_ , you know. Patriarch Michael, back in Constantinople. Making sure Dee's bloody version never made it to print. You know I hate ruining books, but that bloody _stupid_ man ..."

"No arguments there," the demon said, very softly, reaching out with a wry smile to pat the angel very gently on the shoulder. "Hair-brained bloody Elizabethan. But you have to let this _go_ , angel. So long as Miskatonic and Buenos Aires keep their copies, you're not going to get them all. _Once_ was enough trying to break into those places. We agreed."

"I know," the angel said, slumping tiredly. "I know, dear. But ... there are still the others. I might not be able to ... to stop it utterly, but at least I can hold it back. I can at least ... I can at least _try_." 

And if he'd wheedled, or looked beseeching, or given even the slightest indication that he was playing Crowley, the demon would have shot him down with only a narrowed glare, and nary a blink. But he didn't. Only stared at the floor, one hand resting beside the damned tome, and looked ... vaguely defeated. And Crowley may have been a demon, and a vicious bastard besides, but he did have his limits.

"Just ... be more bloody _careful_ this time, won't you?" he sighed at last, and tried not to feel too much of a warm twinge when the angel offered him a tremulous smile.


End file.
